Masquerades
by Aetheling
Summary: He wears a mask now, just as she did. It was her friends that saved her, but they cannot see through him, so the task falls to her.
1. Weiss

Six sit around a table, enjoying a meal together. They're laughing, smiling, though their eyes are far away when they look at the two empty spaces of their gathering. She sits by her friends, and smiles and laughs with the rest of them, but she is watching him. Watching him, and seeing what the others do not.

 _We protect our own, don't we? To everyone outside, we say you're fine; that you've recovered, moving forward like the rest of us. We only say the truth when it's just us._ She watched as he tells some ridiculous story from his youth, no doubt where he bumbles his way into mischief. Those stories always make them laugh, and he smiles the whole time. But she can see what the others do not, or will not. Those smiles never reach his eyes.

 _When it's just the two of us, my partner says how worried she gets when you train alone. You watch the video over and over, drinking the words like a man fresh from the desert. She tells me you never seem lost the morning after, that you're in control. It's not healthy, she'll say, but it hasn't gotten to you._

 _Your teammates will mention, discreetly if asked, that you don't sleep well anymore. You toss and turn, you cry out. They worries that your dreams are plagued by things you could have done. They say you show that same confidence as always when you're awake, though. They'll say you're dealing with guilt, but it hasn't gotten to you._

 _They will all go on and on about your brief adventure, smiles on their faces. Everyone laughs when they hear about you dodging and weaving against the Geist._

 _I hear you went to fight a powerful Grimm without arms or armor, not even asking for a loan._

 _They clap you on the back and applaud your growing as a fighter for finally getting an upgrade on your blade._

 _I hear you don't use a shield anymore, that you rush your enemies with a weakened defense and an untrained style._

She watches his smiles and laughs that don't reach his eyes, as he wears a face to placate those around him. She knows what that is like. She watches as the young couple go off to have a private moment together, and her own team gathers her up for something ridiculous, and they leave him behind. No one but her knows where he will go.

 _You visit her grave every day. An empty grave strewn with accolades, and isn't that overly symbolic?_

 _We tell the world you're alright, and to us you're doing better, but you're in pain, aren't you? My family would tell the world I was well, and only my sister knew I struggled. Not even she knew how much pain I was in, though._

She watches him, and she sees him for what he truly is, while the others see what he wishes them too. She isn't surprised, and she admits he's quite good. For her, it was haughty words, but for him it is a goofy smile. Different masks for different people, but a mask nonetheless.

 _You weren't much back then, really. A shallow pool I could see the bottom of without even turning my head. Now, though? Now there's something hidden inside you, now no one can see inside your depths. You've... frozen over, and we see what we wish to on the surface. That was me, once._

She slips away, one evening, when their six are only five, and she goes to where she knows he will be. It's a beautiful day: the sun is out, the sky is clear, and the birds sing quietly between the graves. The sarcophagus is covered in already forgotten gifts, but he bears only memories when he sits at its feet. She does not hear him come, despite the click of heel on stone, he is not truly here. She sits silently beside him on cool grass, and waits for him to return.

When he does, she can see it happen: a small smile is put forward, bowed back becomes a slouch, clenched fists release. He makes to speak, but she stops him with a hand.

"You don't need to hide from me." He takes on a confused frown, but she can see the worry in his eyes. "You're lying. Lying to them, lying to the world, and I've done that too." She gestures softly towards their lost friend. "But you wouldn't lie to her, would you? You don't lie to her. She would help you, if she could, but she can't. So I will. If it's you and me, you don't need to wear the mask you show the others. Let it out, or it will destroy you from the inside."

As she speaks, the mask slips away, she sees beneath the ice. Pain, despair, grief and guilt and doubt and hatred. A roiling mass as black as night, eating at his soul. "What if that's what I deserve?" His quiet voice an accusation.

"Would she accept that?" He makes to reply and she cuts him off: " _Would_ _she_ _accept that?"_ He turns to stare at the emblem cared in the rock, and shakes his head.

"Then neither will you. You'll live, if not for yourself then for her. And you will let me help you."

They sit in silence again; she is staring at him and he is staring at the name in the stone.

"Why?" She knew the question would come eventually.

"I was told once I 'had some good friends looking out' for me; I don't know if I've ever felt more guilty than at those words. Well you have friends looking out for you too, and I will do right by you this time, and by her."

Silence again. Silence for an age.

His back bends, his head falls into his hands, and he begins to weep. Slowly, tentatively, she reaches out a hand, letting it rest on his shoulder. His tears do not stop.

"I failed her." The words are choked between the sobs, "God, I failed her; she's alone again because of me."

There are no more words that evening, he could not make them and she would not. As the sun begins to set, he is still distraught, her shoulder the only thing even keeping him upright. The light begins to fade, as do his tears. Eventually, he stops altogether, and she helps him to his feet. She starts to lead him down the path, but he pulls away. He staggers towards the stone figure. A song returns to her from long ago, but she will not sing it aloud.

 _...And in it's place there's nothing, just an endless empty hole. The light that showed the way is gone, and darkness takes control._

He rests a hand on the sculpted face, and speaks softly, too quiet to hear. She sees the tears begin anew.

 _Bitterness and anger, are quick to fill the void. The path to isolation is littered with dreams that lay destroyed._

He lurches back beside her, and the two begin their walk, to once again become six. She hopes they will be seven again, but it will never be eight. They will never again have Pyrrha.


	2. Nora

The sisters drag away their no-longer errant teammate, leaving the four of them alone. Life certainly hadn't pulled any punches, but at least they get some time to rest every once in a while. She stretches out on the couch, laying her head in her partner's lap; his hands rest on her brow, occasionally running through her hair. In the opposite corner of the room, her leader relaxes with the sole remaining member of their sister team; his eyes are closed as his head rests on the back cushion, while she sits primly forward, her hair obscuring the small space between them. She watches her, knowing a truth the others haven't quite taken in.

 _People always figure I'm the stupid one. They don't think anyone can be loud and happy and also smart, but where's the sense in that? I have eyes, I have a brain; being upbeat doesn't mean throwing those out._ She certainly has eyes enough to spot the other girl's glances to her leader's snoozing form, brains enough to understand their meaning, and heart enough to sympathize with her choice.

 _It isn't easy, putting a broken person back together._ Hands continue to run softly through her orange hair, and she remembers days far off, and not too distant, when her partner was just as broken as her leader.

 _We tried to be the ones to help him, but we all know how he is. Instead, he just made himself be alright for us. And we bought that?_ A spike a hatred turns in her stomach, and she settles her hands over it. _How good were my eyes then, huh? How good were they, that they couldn't see through to him, couldn't see how badly he needed someone? But you saw, didn't you? You saw, and you helped._

 _I didn't think you were so kind._

She had been the first to see that kindness, though. He would slip away as he always did, find some excuse or just vanish on their little group. More often than not, she would be gone soon after, hunting him down. Or it would be time for meals, and the two would sit next to one another, breaking from their traditional places. The group of six, now seven, would sit down to just kill some time, and one would drift toward the other, settling on the same couch or adjacent by the fire.

 _I never thought you would be the first one to see how badly he was really hurting. I never thought you would be the one to try and heal him_.

 _Your team teases and giggles behind your back, thinking you two have been running off for some rendezvous. They haven't seen you two walking towards a graveyard, though. They would cheer and pester you if they saw you slip into his room last night, but they didn't hear him weeping or you singing a lullaby until it stopped. I didn't see the mask before, but I see it now; I see it vanish when he thinks it's just you two. His laughter is genuine again, and his smiles reach his eyes._

 _He makes music again, even if it makes me weep to hear._

The object of her study sits back then, letting her propriety slip enough to relax into a soft cushion. The girl's eyes never leave her friend, and her eyes never leave the girl. Her leader shifts a bit, nodding as if he's woken up, but doesn't want to really rejoin the waking world. She watches as a hand reaches for his, hesitating in the space between. It settles down between them, just below the cascade of white hair.

She turns her own head away, looking up to her partner, who smiles to see her. _Loving the broken ones is a hard thing to do, are you ready for that? For more nights filled with tears, for days where the light just isn't in their eyes? Are you strong enough for your burdens, and his?_

She reaches up and take one of his hands from her head, pulling it into a two-handed grip. It's been years since they needed words for the important things, so she sends him all she feels through a look and a squeeze of the hands: he sends the same back. He turns his head towards the others in the room, and she follows him.

 _It can take years for them to finally be well again. Not healed, those wounds never go away, but well. Before you let yourself come to love, will you be able to face all that?_ She looks down, to the bottom of the fall of white hair. His hand is over hers. His eyes are far away, but hers are locked onto that covered hand, and she can see the emotions playing behind blue eyes.

 _My eyes failed me again, huh? You already love him, and not just the way we all do. He loves you, too, you know. Maybe he hasn't said it, but it's there when I see the edges of the mask._

She turns back to her partner, then to her leader.

 _Loving the broken ones is hard. You give them everything, and they try to do the same, but there's something holding a piece back. I had to share with hatred: with loss and the terrifying scream of a Grimm._

She watches as the two move closer, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as their hands rest on her lap. They're both smiling, ignorant of their two benevolent watchers, but she still sees the flickering fear in his eyes. She prays that they are strong enough to hold together, but she fears whether her friend is strong enough for her chosen task.

 _Can you share him with his guilt? Can you bear to share him with Pyrrha?_


	3. Ren

" _Gunfire getting less frequent; less explosions, as well. Good, I suppose that means we're winning."_ The silence in his hall continued, however. He leans against the wall, the thick stone all that truly held him up, while his leader and brother is sitting beside him, stone not support enough for his weakened legs. They're covered in filth: mud, dust, and in one case gore. The corpse that finishes their little line is motionless, blood slowly pooling on the cobbles.

"I… I thought I'd feel something." His brother murmurs from beside him. He knows his friend needs him, as he needs his friend, so he allows his legs to give and lands beside him with a muffled grunt. "This is what we've been trying to do, right? This was our goal."

"It was." He responds simply.

"I don't understand."

"Do you regret this?" They'd never taken a life before, but surely…

"No!" The response is quick, the voice hard. "No, she needed to… to die. I've thought about this moment before. Dreamed about it for years. I never thought it would be like this." The stones of the wall shake with the sounds of an explosion, a telltale sign the girls are still active.

"I understand." For he did, he'd dreamed of vengeance as well. As a child, he'd dreamed of slaying the beast that had taken his home, he'd memorized every line of the creature's face. When the fateful day had finally come, his team had immobilized the beast and he'd used his father's blade to deal the killing blow. It had been poetic, it had been triumphant. With the death of that monster, he'd felt… liberated. Free to live again: perhaps not to be whole, but to not live in fear of reopening the wound.

He'd dreamed of this vengeance as well, of finding the woman who had broken their team and destroyed their home, of the pitched battle and her demise. He'd dreamed of killing her himself, or of his brother landing the blow, or of his partner. In his darkest dreams, he saw their lost friend doing the deed.

Blood seeps from around the sword, darkening the floor.

He'd never dreamed the two of them would find her, bloodied and aura broken, fleeing from their friends. He'd never dreamed all it would take was a single thrust when she'd had her head turned, still unaware even of their presence. Never dreamed the woman who'd taken his second home from him would die without a sound, never even seeing the blow.

"I thought I would feel angry, or triumphant, or happy." His brother's ramblings continue beside him. "I thought I would feel _something_. Not… not cold. Not empty."

He falls silent, and the quiet that fills the hall is a cold one.

"It needed to be done." He finally tells him. "She needed to die, and we had a right to it." His brother nodds dumbly at the words. "This is a _victory_ for us, and if you don't feel elated? Perhaps it's for the best? Perhaps it's a _good_ thing you didn't revel in the taking of a life. Even the life of someone who earned their death."

His brother is quiet, turning away from him to stare at the hilt of his sword, snugly pressed against the darkened cloth of the dead woman's dress.

"Maybe you're right." He whispers. His leader eventually leans over, drawing his blade from the body's chest, releasing a final gushing of gore over his hands. He cleans the blade on the corpse before sheathing it, and stands. "Come on, we need to find the girls." He stares at the bloodied hand only a moment before he accepts it, and the two leave the corpse behind them.

" _Will this be what you need? Revenge freed me, but will it do the same for you, my friend? Will your guilt rest easy now?"_ Their steps echo as they stumble down the exit, the stones of the fortifications still once more. _"Or will this be another burden you bear? Another chain to wrap around your neck? Seeing them loosen this past year has eased my own pains, seeing her take them from you…"_

They break into the sun again, and they both breathe deep of open air.

"I found them!" Comes a cry, and soon his brother is overwhelmed by a flash of white. "Oh god, are you alright, are you hurt?" The normally reserved young woman is inspecting every inch of his leader, thinking nothing of the blood on him. Their friends arrive then, flashes of red and yellow, black and pink, with their enigmatic commander behind them. He feels his own partner, his own bright light, crash into him, and he can't help but smile.

"We're alright," his leader consoles his fretting caretender, "it's not our blood. Not my blood." The decree stills even his own partner, equally engrossed in inspecting for wounds.

"Did you…?" The white-haired girl cannot finish the question.

"There's a new Fall Maiden now." He tells them all.

"I _am_ sorry that your hands were so forced." The last of their company says formally. Where was the young boy who found them so long ago, and who was this formal man wearing his face? "I wished that none of you were forced to make such decisions. However, I owe you my thanks for such a sacrifice."

" _You truly do not know him."_ He silently bemoans, just as his leader snaps.

"I didn't do it for you. I didn't do it for your damn war! I-" a hand rests on his arm, and his leader falls quiet. The young woman by his side gives no need to the blood that now staining her own white clothing, his leader's peace her only concern. The taller man looks to her, and the cold fury in his eyes gives way before her concern. Wordlessly, he takes her hand and turns for their camp.

The boy, leaning on his cane, watches them go; he remains silent even as all the others follow their two friends away from the smoking keep behind them. Every day, it seems as if their old teacher is with them, not the untrained child they had met. His partner pulls him along, and he fully joins his friends. They're… satisfied with their victory; a job well done, even if it forced them to unpleasant deeds.

" _The girls follow you for the world's safety. Even I follow your orders to for that, but not him."_ His partner's grip tightened on his hands, and he squeezed back to ease her worries. He watches a white head rest against an arm, and the tense shoulders of his brother ease just a hair. _"He followed you for us, he fought for us. He killed for us, and for himself, and for her._

" _He killed for Pyrrha."_


	4. Ruby

She's standing at the edge of the doorframe, leaning precariously to ensure none of her body shows. _"What kind of friend am I? I shouldn't be_ eavesdropping _on my partner and my oldest friend! What would they think?"_ She shakes her head vigorously, black and red hair swinging. _"It's my house: if they want to be sneaky in my kitchen, then I'm going to listen in."_ Her conscious allowed of guilt, she redoubles her effort to listen in.

"They've already told me, there's no possible way those two are getting out of it." Her partner says, voice a mix of savage glee and fear. "Both of them are going to be convicted. Once they're behind bars, I have to be the one to take over."

"Your sister," her old friend begins, but he's soon overrun.

"Hasn't given a damn about the company in a decade, dear: it has to be me." A pause follows, so uncomfortable she feels the need to shuffle her feet in the other room. There a deep cough, and he starts again.

"You'll have to give up on being a Huntress, or at least switch to part time." Her partner scoffs lightly.

"Well, I became a Huntress expecting that: I was still an heiress our first year." The heat fades from her voice as she speaks again, however. "I never expected any of this, though…"

It's his turn then, chuckling a little. "Do you mean being disowned, taking down the sworn enemy of all intelligent life, or seeing your brother and father arrested for gross violations of civil rights?"

"Falling in love." Her best friend responds, in a quiet voice. Back in her hiding place, she's starting to worry if she should stay.

" _Don't let it end like This! You two have come so far, you've made it through so much, don't let a_ job _get in the way!_ " she knows her partner would never refuse the call to lead the company, to steer it from the path of corruption and malevolence it has fallen down. _"Do something, you big, blond lummox! Wait, lummox? Oh god, she's rubbing off on me."_ Her worries of internal corruption are forgotten when voices come from the room again.

"I just want you to know, for the record, I was planning this anyway." He says, his voice rushing as if he fears he won't be able to say it. The soft scraping of one of her chairs on the wooden floor, and silence returns to her kitchen. A long silence.

"You're insane." She hears her white-haired friend whisper.

"Probably," he says nervously, "but you knew that going in."

"But… but… but your own career! We don't need nearly as many Huntsmen back home!" Her friend blabbers. The controlled frustration she had been speaking with was gone, a speeding panic in its place.

"I've always been more the support staff: not much of a solo career." His voice, in contrast, has gained strength, a confidence he rarely shows to anyone beyond their circle of friends.

"Your family would be so far away!" She points out.

"Thankfully, _my_ family is still able to travel. They can visit."

"Your team!" The panic is more than just the speed other voice, now. The pitch is rising higher, and she can picture the wild-eyed look in her face.

"Are considering the going back to school: there's an opening for a combat instructor and an associate professor. They both know I can hardly stand to be on campus, _and_ they want me, us, to be happy."

"But… but…b-mrph!" Her partner is cut off, and she doesn't need to _see_ to guess _how_ he did that. She waits patiently, if tremendously annoyed, for her amorous friends to begin again.

"You don't… need… to answer now." He pants, and she hears a chair slide on the floor again. "You don't even have to say yes: if you're not ready, I understand. But I'm not losing you."

" _Not losing you_ too. _"_ He doesn't need to say it, they all know its there: a sword over their necks, a hand on their shoulders. That rarely spoken of yet always felt absence that weighs upon all seven of them. _"He's put himself out there, he's trying! Isn't that what it all started as? Helping him find himself again? Live dangerously for once, girl!"_ Her silent cheers are interrupted by his voice again.

"I'm going to bed, honey: you can join whenever you'd like. If you need to think it over," his voices raises, "or if you need to ask certain nosey partners!" His voice settles to the warm, strong tones he'd been using. "Then I understand. I love you." Soft footsteps, and he strides past her, beaming at her as if all was right with the world. "You can take it from here? Sweet: have a good night."

She, meanwhile, hasn't felt ths guilty since she was nine, when her sister caught her raiding the fridge without her. She's quivering from boots to hood, just as terrified by his smile than by the silence he's leaving behind. "Would you mind getting in here?" Comes a stern, huffy voice she's only heard a _billion_ times. Sheepishly, she rounds the edge, sitting down in the unoccupied seat across from her partner.

The ring in the small box before her looks quite nice, in her opinion.

Her partner's arms are crossed, a frown marring her face, but she suspects the bright red coloring is more blush than flush. "You heard?" She nods vigorously, and her friend reddens further. "Well?"

"You should do it." She replies _immediately,_ willing her voice as steady as possible. _"I hope you appreciate how hard I'm trying to not vibrate in place and cheer at the top of my lungs! But I know you want me to be calm, you want to be 'rational' about this."_ She's studying her, as if the _lack_ of overexcited cheering is a bad sign.

"I… I _want_ to say yes, more than anything." She doesn't respond: they've known each other for years, she understands that her friend needs to say it all herself. "But, how can I do that to him? Make him tear up his whole life, just to fit my wants. It's unfair to him, I tell you! Even if he _says_ he'll do it, what about five years from now? Or ten? Will he _really_ be content as a bodyguard, or an underemployed Huntsman?"

"He could be a stay at home dad?" Well, _a little_ banter is important. Her partner goes as white as her hair. "Just an idea: I'm sure he'd like it." She smiles innocently, pretending she never listened in on their kids talk last week.

"W-well, I'd rather we find a better option than that." She stutters, but the woman takes a deep breath, collecting herself. "I'm worried. I know, that's probably the understatement of the year, but there it is. How does he do this to me? I can follow you to the depths of hell to save the world without blinking. Putting the fate of the most powerful company yon the world in my hands is an everyday duty. But this, of all things, has me tearing my hair out!?" She opens her mouth to point out how she'd never pull her hair. "And I know I would never _actually_ pull my hair out, thank you.

"I'm scared. Scared of letting him down, scared of letting _myself_ down, scared I'll find a way to ruin this all." She looks down at the ring, her eyes bright with want, and fear. "And I'm scared he still loves her." She reaches across the table, taking hold of her friend's hand in hers, snapping her out of the morose trance.

"Of course he still loves her." Her friend stares as if she's just been slapped. "I barely remember my mother, and I still love her. If she died, I would never stop loving my sister. If I died, I would hope you wouldn't stop loving me." She smiles, trying to send warmth to her not-actually-cold friend.

"So, of course he still loves her, he always will!" She puts her partner's hand down, atop the box. "He loves you, too. If you think for a moment that he would _ever_ regret staying with you, then you're a dense as him. He loves you, he wants to spend the _rest of his life_ with you, and he wants you to want the same." She stands up, bracing her arms on the white-haired woman's shoulders as if to shake her.

"Now, as your best friend and team leader, you listen to me! You're going to put on that ring, you're going to march up to your room, and tell him 'Yes'. Then, as my dear sister would say, you're going to rock his world. You got that?!" She does shout excitedly then, and her friend is moving as soon as the "order" is given. She slides on the ring, pockets the box, and heads for the exit.

She gives her friend an encouraging pat on the butt as she goes, pushing a bit more speed into her step. She stays in the kitchen, but listens to the fading clicks as her best friend slowly gains momentum, until she's practically _sprinting_ up the stairs and hall. She let's out an exhausted but pleased sigh as she collapses into the abandoned chair.

" _Ugh, the things I do for friends; those two dummies need all the help they can get."_ She smiles nonetheless, knowing that in the end, they will be wonderful together. _"You just keep psyching yourself out, girl. You just keep letting your mind fall back to how it started, and not what it became. You've done so much for him, helped him go so far, but a part of you is afraid you're competing for him._

" _The heart can hold more than one person, and love comes in all sorts of shapes. Yes, his partner has a spot in his heart: she has one in all of us. But_ you're _the one who holds that heart together._ You're _the one who saw his pain and helped. Stop fighting yourself, stop doubting yourself. Stop thinking you've wronged a friend, because the person who would most want him to be happy is Pyrrha."_


	5. Jaune

It's early in the morning; the sun is just breaking over the distant hills, birds are just emerging from their nests, and the heat of the summer has yet to spoil the day. The headstones are largely bare, though a bouquet sheds its petals here or there in silence. Across from an unadorned sarcophagus, two visitors settle on the dewy grass. Many graves nearby show signs of neglect, but not this one; no, it has been unscrupulously maintained, visited regularly by groundskeepers at the very least. He smiles, knowing who is no doubt responsible for ensuring good care for this place.

A white-haired head drowsily nuzzles into him, and he holds tighter to his singular companion, smiling down at her before turning his head back to the great stone slab. Years ago, the woman sculpted atop the lid was formed of sharp edges and smooth curves, but weather has begun to dull the edges, to mark the clean rock. Despite the erosion, it still looks so much like her, though the eyes have always lacked her brilliance.

"Hey." His voice is quiet, as to not wake the sleeper. "I know it's been a while since I've been by here, and I'm sorry for that. I know I don't _have_ to come by, but it feels more… natural to talk here." A breeze picks up briefly, rustling his hair and the trees equally. He smiles at it, taking a deep breath of the air, free of the smoke and ash he had grown accustomed to in his youth. "Good to hear from you. I _know_ you already know, but I still want to tell you what's been going on.

"We had a team meeting a while back, and we reached a decision: we've disbanded. There were a few openings back at school, and we were all so tired of long days on the road, of watches at night, and fighting for everyone's lives. Good luck to the new students, but at least they'll be able to follow what their teacher says, unlike us." He looks away from the stone face, down to the sleeping, pale face.

"I got an offer, too, but I can't stay on campus, not for very long. One minute, I'm just walking along like its any other day, and the next I'm staring at our jogging route. Or, I'm looking at the bottom of our roof. The space outside the tower where we…" His voice loses power, and he falls quiet.

"I'm in Atlas now: we moved in together, in her place. Her brother and father are in prison, and they don't have a good chance for pardons or early release. I had to ask for a map when I got there, it was so huge. We keep it lively, though; there's always a friend from the good old days or a comrade from the bad ones in town, and we put them up. All seven of us got together last week, it almost felt like our schooldays. And I doubt there's ever been so many faunus sleeping in the guest chambers before us! I suppose house guests is just another part of how she's changing the world, and I'm happy to be along for the ride."

An emblem still stands firmly in the foot of the sarcophagus, protected from the wear of wind and water and time. He falls silent, watching it carefully. "When I lost you, I wanted to die." For the first time, there's no hesitance in his voice. It comes quiet and sharp, as a knife is drawn. "I felt dead already, and I was just waiting for the rest of me to catch up. Everything looked dimmer, everything sounded duller, I would wake up and not understand why I bothered.

"I didn't know how I was supposed to go on without you. I never really realized _how much_ you meant to me until it was too late. There was a hole in my heart. There still is." Again, he looks to the white head on his arm. "I learned, though."

"I spent so long listening to your recording. Most nights, I did it just to hear you talk, but _what_ you were saying didn't really get through at first. I suppose that's just me being me, right? Taking way too long to catch something important? Someone decided to help me again, too. That's how it is with me, too. Someone needs to come along and get your message through my thick skull.

"Even if you're gone, you're always with me."

He wipes his eyes, and stands up from the grass, still wary to not disturb his companion. With slow, determined steps, he comes closer to the stone, leaning over it cautiously. The stone woman looks as if she would rise from her place any moment, even with the signs of time's passage.

"Even if you weren't _there_ , you were still with me, still keeping an eye on your hapless partner. You'd always have my back, you'd always be there for me, in your own way. I owe you so much, and I know you'd just tell me to forget about it, that it's just what a friend would do. Well, let an old friend say it one more time.

"Thank you, for everything." The stone beneath her eyes darkens, and he wipes at his own.

"One last thing we need to cover, right? The main event?" He chuckles to himself, and his friends would recognize the uneasiness in it. "Asking her was terrifying, you know. Hardest thing I'd done in a long time, saving the world included. Should I ask her? What if she said no? What if she said _yes_? I couldn't stand it!

"She just went and turned it on its head, though, and asked _me_. I spend _forever_ trying to work up the nerve, and she just drops it on me. And how could I say no, with her looking scared out of her wits? How long had it taken _her_ to work up the nerve to do it?"

There's a shifting in his arms, and dark blue eyes crack open. He smiles down at the waking form. "Well, I suppose we should do introductions, right? I'd like you to meet someone very important to me, partner.

"Her mother named her Pyrrha."


End file.
